Synthetica Read online

  Hey A! How did your first day go?? Are you still up for meeting later? X

  Inwardly, Anais groaned. She wanted to see Xander, but in all honesty, she was exhausted. All she wanted to do was go home, take a long shower, and try to forget the whole day had ever happened. The thought of waking up tomorrow and going through the whole thing again made her feel as though there was a huge weight on her chest, crushing her lungs and making it hard for her to breathe. How did her parents do it? Granted, they had actual jobs to do, but to work in that environment every day...Anais just couldn't see how they could stand it.

  “Anais!”

  Anais looked up to see her dad walking towards her. She got wearily to her feet.

  “Dad? What are you doing here? Hasn't your shift just started?”

  Mr Finch shook his head.

  “I'm on doubles. Just got off. Do you mind if this handsome young man accompanies you home?”

  He gave her a wink, but the dark shadows under his eyes told a different story from the joviality in his voice. Anais could only muster up half a smile in return. She'd been kept so busy that she'd completely forgotten about the dark thoughts about the murder that had been plaguing her thoughts and her dreams for the past few days. Now she was glad that her dad was with her as the sun began to set and the buildings around them began to throw out long shadows.

  “So how did it go?” Mr Finch asked as they began to walk towards the maglev station.

  “Oh, okay,” Anais was unwilling to elaborate but when her dad looked at her expectantly, she said, “They're training me up as a mechanic, to begin with.”

  It wasn't really a lie. As far as she could tell, that was her job role. She hadn't been told any different. Sensing her mood, Mr Finch didn't question her any further as they reached the station and boarded the next train. Anais couldn't help but notice the stares she was attracting. She glanced at her reflection in the window – her hair was wild, and her uniform looked beyond repair. She reached up and tried to rub a smudge of grease off her cheek, but it remained stubbornly where it was.

  She couldn't help but feel dejected as she stepped off the train, her dad by her side. Perhaps he noticed her expression, which is why he patted her awkwardly on the shoulder.

  “Don't worry love, it'll get easier. You'll soon pick it all up.”

  Anais didn't have the strength left to argue. She'd already done a quick search of the picochip factory on the NIC, and it reportedly had over five hundred different kinds of machinery. It would be miracle if she learnt how to operate one of them, let alone another four hundred and ninety-nine.

  “Anais?”

  The puzzled voice made Anais turn. Her heart stopped.

  Dalla was standing on the platform, having just disembarked from the same train. Anais could see her friend's eyes taking in the grime and dirt on her overalls, the smudge on her cheek, the wild tangles of her hair. Dalla, in complete contrast, looked as though she'd just stepped out of a HV advertisement. She was wearing a stylish white scarf wrapped around her neck, and her black and white striped dress was impeccably crisp. Her glossy hair shone in the orange of the setting sun.

  Dalla took a step towards her.

  “What on earth happened to you?” she asked, her dark eyes wide.

  Anais gave a bitter smile.

  “The factory, remember?”

  “Ah,” Dalla's eyes flicked towards Mr Finch, her fingers playing nervously with her scarf. “Hi Mr Finch, how are you?”

  “Fine thanks, Dalla,” he said warmly. He clapped Anais on the shoulder. “Well, I'll leave you girls to it. See you in a bit.”

  He squeezed Anais' shoulder, nodded to Dalla and turned, sauntering off towards home. Anais waited for Dalla to hesitantly catch up to her. They both started walking towards their residential district, an uncomfortable silence stretching between them.

  “So, how was your first day at Civitas?” Anais finally asked, as they stopped at a pedestrian crossing. Brightly coloured auto-cabs hovered serenely by, full of commuters. Dalla shrugged.

  “Oh, it was okay.” Out of the corner of her eye, Anais could see Dalla struggling with herself not to blurt everything out. “How was yours?”

  It was Anais' turn to shrug.

  “It was okay.”

  The light flashed green and they crossed the road. Anais could still see her dad walking a little way in front of them.

  “Look...Anais,” Dalla started, but Anais suddenly found she didn't need to hear it.

  “Dalla,” she said, pulling Dalla to a stop. “I'm sorry. For the way I acted yesterday. And for...well, for being a bit of a bitch, really.”

  Dalla giggled.

  “Friends?” Anais asked hopefully. Dalla slipped her arm around Anais'.

  “I wasn't aware we weren't,” she said lightly, much more like her usual cheerful self. They began to walk again, Dalla's arm still hanging onto Anais.

  “So you wanna tell me what's been bugging you? You were acting weird all yesterday,” Dalla said as they sidestepped a young couple dressed in neon green walking in the opposite direction. Anais opened her mouth, puzzled, before she realised – in her fit of jealousy yesterday, she'd never gotten round to telling Dalla what she'd witnessed in the alley. Now that she thought about it, it seemed like an astonishing lapse in memory.

  “Well,” Anais looked around. The streets were a lot quieter now as they began to enter the residential street. Her dad was still ambling ahead of them, but apart from that, they were the only ones on the street. The sky was a blaze of orange and gold and purple as the sun threw out it's last rays. Even the thought of darkness beginning to descend made Anais feel slightly nervous. She wanted to get off the streets as soon as possible. “Listen, why don't you come over later, I've got something to tell you.”

  “Ooh, what?” Dalla's bright eyes gazed at her. Her cheeks were tinged pink with the promise of gossip. “Hey, you're not pregnant are you?”

  “Dalla!” Anais said, shoving her playfully. Dalla laughed.

  “Just checking! So what's it about?”

  “I can't tell you here,” Anais said with another glance around. “Come over to mine later, and I'll tell you.”

  “Sure,” Dalla said, scratching behind her ear. She rearranged her scarf and fanned her face with her hand. “Is it just me, or is it a bit warm?”

  “It's not that warm,” Anais said. Now that she'd been walking for a while, the sweat on her skin had cooled, leaving her shivering slightly.

  “Hey, so you know that murder that happened last night?” Dalla said suddenly.

  Anais almost missed a step, but Dalla didn't seem to notice.

  “Well, you know how I told you that that Mr Anderson was leaving daddy's company? Well, it turns out that the guy he was going into business with was the man who was murdered the other night! Parson, was it?”

  “Pearson,” Anais said automatically. Her mind was already racing with the implications of this statement. “But, why hasn't any of this been in the news?” She'd set up alerts on her RetCom for anything to do with the murders – surely something this big would've been reported?

  Dalla looked at her quizzically.

  “Why would it? It's not like their new business was common knowledge or anything. Does it matter?”

  “Yes!” Anais said, more loudly than she'd intended. “It matters! Don't you see? The only company who hasn't been affected by all this is Civitas!”

  “Hang on,” Dalla stopped walking. “What are you talking about?”

  Anais stopped too and faced Dalla, excitement coursing through her veins. In the dying sunlight, Dalla's cheeks glowed pink.

  “These attacks – they're all related! The first victim, Anderson, he worked for MediTech. Donald Pearson worked for WireX – the only big company who hasn't been affected
yet is Civitas! They wanted to take over WireX Industries – and...” she stopped as she realised what Dalla's information meant. “and...if those two men wanted to set up their own company...that would've been another rival for Civitas...”

  She drifted off, lost in her thoughts. Dalla was looking at her as though she was crazy.

  “Anais...where's all this coming from? What does it matter to you if these men were murdered? Or if Civitas wants to take over another company?”

  Anais opened her mouth to say that it did matter – it mattered because she'd almost been framed for the crime, and she'd be damned if she was going to let whoever was behind the murders get away that easily. But she couldn't just blurt that out to Dalla.

  “Come back to mine now, and I'll tell you,” Anais said, but Dalla wasn't listening. She was fanning her face again and fidgeting with her scarf.

  “Seriously, why is it so hot at this time of night?” she said, as she tugged her scarf off.

  “It's not -” Anais drew in a sharp intake of breath. “Dalla, what on earth is that?”

  Dalla had turned away to put her scarf in her bag, but in doing so she'd swept her hair behind her ear, to reveal a horrendous mark on her neck.

  “What? Nothing,” Dalla said guiltily, standing back up straight and trying to hide it again. But Anais seized her arm and gingerly brushed her hair back.

  The area around Dalla's ID picochip was red and swollen. The skin covering the chip itself beginning to turn black. Dark blue and purple veins were beginning to snake out of the picochip as the infection began to spread. It looked undeniably painful.

  “Dalla,” Anais gasped. “What happened?”

  Dalla chewed her lip anxiously.

  “I don't know,” she whispered. “When I woke up...it was a bit irritated, but it's just been getting worse all day. I...I don't know what to do.”

  She looked close to tears.

  “You have to go to the hospital,” Anais said, still reeling from the sight of Dalla's infected ID chip. It made her feel queasy to look at it. “Dalla, who knows what might happen if you don't?”

  Dalla shook her head furiously.

  “I can't go to the hospital! What if they keep me in overnight? I can't miss work, when I've only just started!”

  “I think there are some things that are more important than work, Dals,” Anais said firmly. “You've got to get it checked out. Hang on – did you say you woke up with it like this?”

  Dalla refused to meet her eye, which was answer enough.

  “It was that SLP,” Anais said, horrified. “Wasn't it?”

  “I – I don't know,” Dalla said, but her worried expression told Anais everything she needed to know.

  “Dalla, we've got to get to hospital, now! Maybe – maybe they can reverse the process of something,” Anais said, trying very hard not to panic. Dalla shook her head slowly.

  “I don't think they'll be able to,” she whispered. “When I woke up this morning...I couldn't remember anything I'd downloaded on that SLP anyway. It's all gone.”

  Anais closed her eyes. She knew messing around with pirated technology was a risk, but this...this was something else. She didn't know what to do.

  “Okay,” she said, opening her eyes and sounding remarkably calm despite the panic gnawing at her insides. “We'll go to the hospital, and just see what they say. We'll figure something out, Dals, don't worry.”

  “They won't be able to do anything. They never do. What good are hospitals anyway, apart from places where people go to be born, or die? I've never liked the smell of hospitals, makes me sick, like I wanna be sick, y'know? Like, really really badly. One time, I actually was sick in hospital, but not because of the smell, it was because I had a virus, like, a really really really bad one.”

  Anais stared at her friend in alarm.

  “Dalla, what are you talking about?”

  Dalla looked surprised at her own outburst. She tried to speak, but she clamped her mouth shut and shook her head. Anais took a step forward, peering into Dalla's face. The pink tinge to Dalla's cheeks had deepened to two bright red spots of colour, and her eyes were a bit too wide, a bit too bright. She didn't look excited anymore. She looked feverish. There was a line of perspiration across Dalla's forehead and her breathing was coming in shallow bursts.

  “Dalla, what's wrong? Are you feeling alright?” Anais placed a hand on her arm, and to her alarm, she felt Dalla trembling, even though her skin was burning hot. “Dalla, speak to me!”

  “I'm -” Dalla began to reply, before stopping herself, looking as though she was about to be sick.

  “Dalla, you're scaring me, what's wrong? Do you need a medic?” Anais grabbed her friend's shoulders, trying to get Dalla to focus on her, but Dalla's eyes were wide and she was blinking rapidly, as though she could no longer see properly. Anais felt Dalla's shoulders shaking under her hands and panic spread through her as she realised there was something horribly, horribly wrong.

  Dalla shook her head violently Her whole body began to shake. Without a sound, she collapsed forward, her eyes rolling her head. Anais screamed and managed to catch her before she hit the pavement. She knelt down, Dalla convulsing in her arms, her RetCom scanning Dalla's body for symptoms, trying to place her illness, but it kept coming up blank.

  “DAD!” Anais screamed, so loudly she thought she could feel something in her throat tear. “DAD, HELP ME!”

  As she screamed for her father, Anais had just enough wits to send a signal for an emergency medi-cab on her RetCom. A box flashed in her vision, informing her that a medi-cab had been dispatched to her location. She realised she was sobbing as she clutched Dalla to her. Her friend's face now a deathly pale colour, her eyes roving as she stared blankly up at the evening sky.

  “Please, Dalla, hold on, you're going to be okay,” Anais said through her tears. But Dalla's eyes were still rolling, and now spit and blood and something milky was beginning to dribble out of the corner of Dalla's mouth.

  “HELP ME!” Anais screamed again, desperate for someone, anyone, to hear her.

  There was a pounding on the pavement and she looked up, half blinded by her tears. She could just make out her father's form running towards her. He swore loudly as he knelt down next to Anais, checking Dalla's pulse, looking into her sightless eyes. Anais could see her dad's lips moving as they formed question after question, but the sound was now a dull roar in her ears. She clutched Dalla tighter, repeating the same words over and over, not paying any attention to her dad's shouts as he tried to grab the attention of another passerby.

  She kept talking, hoping against hope that Dalla could still hear her, her ears straining for the sound of the medi-cab above the noise of Dalla's strained breathing, her father's questions, and the running footsteps and shouts of the other spectators who were now drawn to the scene.

  “Please, Dalla, just hold on, it'll be alright, you're going to be fine. You're going to be okay, you're going to be okay. Can you hear me? Dalla?”

  But Dalla didn't answer.

  Eight

  The machines bleeped and whirred, registering her biometrics and providing a constantly updated prognosis. From what Anais could make out, every graph that kept flashing on the screen kept looking more and more severe, though she had no idea what any of them meant.

  Blue veins snaked along Dalla's arms towards the IV tubes which were attached to drips filled with a thick yellowish liquid. Her normally glossy brown hair was limp and dull. Her face was pale and dark circles ringed her closed eyes. But it was the picochip behind Dalla's ear that kept drawing Anais' gaze.

  The whole side of Dalla's neck was now red and swollen. The picochip had turned completely black and a network of thicker, uglier veins were now snaking from the ID chip, crawling inch by inch down her neck.

 
To cut the chip out would've been the equivalent of murder. Anais had heard several medics speaking in hushed voices as they rushed in and out of the room, murmuring about septicaemia and inflammation of the brain. Dalla's RetCom lay in a tiny glass vial by her bedside; a precaution against possible blindness. Anais didn't know what could cause a person to have blood poisoning, cause their brain to inflame, as well as go blind, but she didn't want to know. She felt sick to her stomach every time she looked at Dalla's still form, and yet, she couldn't seem to force herself to look away. The same thoughts kept going round and round her mind, until she felt almost dizzy. What if she'd said no when Dalla suggested them go and check out the pirated SLPs? What if she'd fought harder against Dalla buying one, instead of standing there doing nothing? What if, what if, what if.

  Tears burned Anais' eyes as she watched over Dalla's lifeless form. She wiped them furiously away but more kept coming to take their place. She was holding onto every shred of hope she had that Dalla would miraculously open her eyes; that she would stretch and smile her warm, beautiful smile once more. But instead she stayed still and limp and pale, as with every passing hour the likelihood of her ever waking up faded.

  There was a noise outside. Anais reluctantly tore her gaze away from Dalla, blinking away the last few tears to see Mr and Mrs Goddard standing outside their daughter's room. A medic was with them, no doubt explaining to Mrs Goddard for the hundredth time why they couldn't do anything else for Dalla except to watch and see if her condition improved.

  “ - utterly ridiculous. My daughter is lying there dying and you're telling me there's nothing you can do to help her.” Mrs Goddard's voice echoed through the room as the door slid open automatically. She stopped short as she saw Dalla lying on the bed. Her already puffy eyes filled with tears.

  “My baby,” she whispered. Mr Goddard squeezed his wife's shoulder, as he too stared down at Dalla, his face still white with shock. For the moment they both seemed to have forgotten Anais was there. They'd thanked her when they'd first arrived at the hospital for alerting the medics so quickly, but since then the three of them had barely spoken a word to each other as they all sat around Dalla's bedside and waited for some sign that she was going to pull through.